The 56th Annual Hunger Games
by Nullumstiamdictum
Summary: A take on the 'choose your own tribute' genre. While the tributes themselves have already been chosen from our favorite books, movies, and TV shows, you choose who lives, and you choose who dies. Massive Crossover. Universes included are: Artemis Fowl, Harry Potter, Lady and the Tramp, Twilight, The Inheritance Cycle, Avatar:The Last Airbender, Chronicles of Narnia, and more.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. As I said in the summary, this is a take on the "choose your own tribute" fics. I stole the 'sponsoring' idea from that genre, and have added my own spin on things. Rather than creating your own tributes (which is admittedly fun) the tributes in this fic are main characters from other books/movies/TV shows. I have assigned them different names, and slightly twisted their background stories to fit within the Hunger Games universe, but they still share many of their inspiration's key traits. I will describe the rules of sponsorship after the end of this chapter, until then, Happy Hunger Games.**

* * *

Chapter 1, The Reaping, Part 1

District 1

Sapphire donned a form-fitting blue dress, one with a neckline that plunged far more scandalously than she would have liked. She pulled on a string of pearls and a pair of white gloves to add the semblance of sophistication to the attire. Her mother knocked on the door, before entering with a frown. Her mother had never approved of her idea to volunteer, despite being a Victor herself, but hadn't gone so far as to forbid her training. She kissed her mother's cheek and walked out the door, mourning that her ambition to do _something_ other than sit nicely and not waste money had driven such a wedge between them.

* * *

Although Pyrrhus would never admit it to anyone else, he was nervous. It was the Reaping. _His_ Reaping. Almost 9 years of training boiled down to this one moment. This was the official start of the Games. He put on a suit, but had the Training center's stylist mess his hair up for him. He was going for a bit of a rebellious persona, according to his Mentor's stern instructions. Not that he minded. Tornac was the best teacher he had ever had. Well, maybe he was the only teacher he had ever had, but that didn't make him any less good. Tornac had been more than just an instructor; he had also been a friend to Pyrrhus, as he was adjusting to life in the Districts. Pyrrhus couldn't help but wonder if, while he was in the Capitol, he would ever run into his father.

* * *

Onscreen, a man with wickedly green and black hair with violent eyes was speaking, pumping everyone up for the Games. Not that they needed it. The first Reaping began at 1am, and everyone had been partying since 6 the previous evening. By District 12, they'd be worn out, but that was still far off.

"Welcome, to the kickoff of the 56th annual Hunger Games. We're live now in District 1, and things are shaping up to be one heck of the party." The camera panned around the square, where adults and children dressed in the latest fashions danced fervently. Lights flashed and music played, and fireworks were set off intermittently. Essentially, the scene was almost completely identical to ones playing out all over the Capitol, although there was a slightly frantic air to the District's gathering.

"Welcome, Welcome, to another fabulous year, and another fabulous Game." Cheers cut off the District escort's speech, but the woman didn't seem to mind. She was a newer face in District 1, but had bounced around some of the lower Districts before then. "Would you rather I gave a long speech, or we got down to the fun bit?" She chuckled good naturedly as she was almost blown back by the force of the noise greeting her. "First, our fantastic female tribute." As she drew a slip of paper from the bowl, the country held its breath. "Diamond Evara." A thin young girl of about fourteen was lifted into the air and passed onstage amidst raging cheers. She seemed a little concerned at first, but quickly regained her composure.

"Lovely, my dear. And will there be any volunteers?" The square went quiet so the predetermined girl could be heard over the crowd.

"I volunteer." Diamond Evara let out a quiet breath of relief, not that anyone could see her do it. Instead all eyes were fixed on the eighteen year old section. The crowd parted as a slender young woman with dark hair and tantalizing blue eyes glided to the stage.

"Well done miss! And might I ask what your name is?"

"Sapphire Silvae." After the District escort gave the customary short response, the camera's focus zoomed out to the commentators to wait for the District's cheering to die down.

"Looks like we've got a beauty from one this year."

"I quite agree, and she'll be a real contender too. Her mother, Isabella Silvae nee Luna was the Victor for the 37rd Hunger Games."

"That _was_ a good year. I hope we can expect as stunning an appearance as her mother put in."

"I expect we will, I expect we will." The camera focused once again on District 1 as its escort once again approached the Reaping bowl.

"Pyrrhus Aeacid." A smartly dressed boy approached from the seventeen year old section, smirking.

"It's a shame," began one of the commentators, "he would have made a lovely tribute." However, the commentator's presumption that the District would offer up a different tribute was proved invalid, as absolute silence filled the District Square when volunteers were asked for.

"This _is_ strange," said one commentator gleefully. "Only one volunteer from 1. Although the Reaped boy doesn't look too shabby either." In any other District, he would have thrilled them, but since he was from 1, he was dubbed "not too shabby." The camera paused lovingly over them for the rest of the hour, before changing over to District 2.

* * *

District 2

Camilla was practically jumping up and down with excitement. Her father didn't know it, but she was planning on volunteering. She put on a small pink dress that accentuated her youth. Although she was only 13, Camilla knew she was ready to be in the Games. She had trained with swords every day since she grew old enough to hold one, and had watched her brothers fight before she reached that glorious age. One of those brothers, Perseus, had already volunteered and won three years before, and now it was her turn. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Pine wasn't nervous. He wasn't thrilled either. Rather, he was determined. Determined to prove he was worth it, to prove that he could be an asset to the District, not some forgotten, abandoned orphan. In the training center, he had found his place, and had found his family, and now it was for them that he would fight. He _would_ win. For them, and for himself. His only concern was how exactly to do it.

* * *

"That was a lovely Reaping in District 1, wouldn't you agree, Elissa?"

"Quite, Aeneas. Those two are going to go far. Now let's see if District 2 can match them." The camera's focused on District 2's square. The party was a little more subdued, but most attending were still quietly elegant. Unknown to the rest of Panem, the square itself only contained the crème de la crème of District 2's citizens. The elegant parents socialized in the background, as the refined children stood in their age groupings, with the twelve year olds closest to the front, and the eighteen year olds farthest away. The District escort gave a few customary greetings, as District 2 dignifiedly responded.

"And now, I present to you our female tribute." The escort's hand fished around a bowl for a while. "Mable Sinnera." A girl approached from the sixteen year old section, and quickly ascended the stage. "Any girls wishing to volunteer must reach the stage first. On my signal, ready, go!" With her shout, several large girls bolted from the eighteen year old section, as well as a few from the seventeen year old section, and even one fifteen year old. Unfortunately for them, a girl darted up from the thirteen year old section, before any of them could even begin to gain momentum.

"Well, well, well, this is a pleasant surprise! And what might your name be?"

"Camilla Hastae."

"That wouldn't be the same Hastae as the one glaring at you from the other side of the stage, would it?" She asked conspiratorially. In response, Camilla turned to her brother.

"You don't get to have all the fun!" she called, sticking out her tongue. The Capitol laughed in unison.

"No he doesn't," agreed the District escort joyfully. "Now, lets see who else gets to have a little fun," she added walking over to the bowl of names.

"Granite Ferre." This time a boy from the twelve-year-old section walked up. He looked anxious to dart back in with the rest of his classmates. "Any volunteers must be the first to reach the stage. On my signal, ready, go!" This time only a few boys ran up. One from the fifteen year olds, who was quickly overtaken and shoved aside by a sixteen year old, who was then mysteriously tripped, allowing the only seventeen year old to gain the stage.

"And what is your name?"

"Pine Frigus." The District Escort's assessment was drowned out by the commentators.

"What an extraordinary volunteer. I believe young Camilla is the youngest volunteer in seven years."

"And don't forget that Pine Frigus. Look at those muscles. And the way one of the younger boys tripped up that sixteen year old. Some people have faith in him."

"Only time will tell. On to District 3."

* * *

District 3

Neon sat in front of her window, gazing out at her District. It was lit up in fantastic colors as far as she could see. Which, admittedly, wasn't that far considering all the smog. She was tired. It was past 2am, and although she knew she could sleep in later, after the Reaping, that wasn't much comfort for her. It was her last year, and although she was thrilled by the prospect, she wasn't thrilled about the 26 times her name was in the running. 7 for her age, and nineteen for taking out tesserae for three the past six years, and for two this year. God, she missed her mother. She had always known what to say to make her feel better. Neon put on her best work clothes to brave the outdoors, the crowds, and the Reaping.

* * *

Orion Partridge was not a child to mess with. Once, a schoolyard bully had decided to poke fun at his name, and Orion had him in tears in less than thirty seconds. He wasn't a physically powerful boy, but his astonishing intellect dumbfounded those he came in contact with. Orion, at the age of twelve, was already one of the district's top inventors, making in excess of 1,000,000 Coins a year. Not that he truly needed the money. His family had always been powerful, and despite his father's recent disappearance and his mother's retreat from the sane world, their finances had never been better. But Orion was nervous. It was his first year eligible for the Hunger Games, and suspected it might be his last. His father had disappeared two years ago, after making some decisions unfavorably looked upon by the Capitol. Orion could only hope that the Capitol's ire at his paternal progenitor's actions would not extend to himself. He had learned rudimentary self-defense from his Butler, and was confident in his ability to gain every possible advantage should he be Reaped, but the idea made him nervous. He didn't like that it was out of his control.

* * *

"District three is looking magical this year," began one commentator, to start off the night's events. And it was true. The district itself looked gorgeous, in the dark, the smog looked intentional, and caught the multitude of lights beautifully. Similar compliments could not be bestowed upon its inhabitants. Dreary row after dreary row formed the ranks of District 3's potential tributes. Only a few children here and there possessed any clothing other than work uniforms, and rarely did even they wear anything remotely nice.

"Attention. It is time to select our female tribute." The escort from three suited his District. He was short, to the point, and efficient. Likely he just didn't want to be seen on screen long in such an unfashionable place, but his concise manner was still appreciated. "Neon Lep." A small girl from eighteen year olds began walking toward the stage amidst sparse applause. She kept her head held high, but her slight frame and elven features didn't much impress the commentators.

"I don't think she's even five foot!" exclaimed one. The escort moved quickly on after sparing a moment to ask for volunteers.

"For our male tribute, Orion Partridge." Murmurs rippled through the crowd at this name, as a small twelve year old took the stage. One of the commentators was interested enough to do his job and look up the tribute's information.

"My goodness, what an extraordinary tribute."

"The girl?"

"No, of course not. The boy. Orion Partridge. Under his file it says that not only does he have an IQ of over 200, but he is also inventor of several major new gadgets, such as the new line of Evraydons." The commentators hummed over the IQ score, but at the mention of Evraydons, a popular new type of personal computer, they went ballistic.

"Evraydons, no no no, that was Emmesey Squire, everyone knows _that_."

"One of his aliases. He's also published a large number of scientific journals under the name Dr. F. Roy Dean Schlippe."

"What a busy boy!" Exclaimed one.

"This will be a fascinating Game to watch!"

* * *

District 4

Moray glared at her brother over the large pile of laundry in front of her. "You had to wait until Reaping day to tell me about this?"

"Yes, yes I did. Now I'm going to go fish a bit before we have to go." As her brother left, Moray groaned. Laundry was not her favorite activity, especially at three in the morning. But she didn't want to wake her Gran Gran, so she didn't really have any other options. Moray's main job wasn't laundry, and it wasn't fishing either, like almost everyone else in her District. No, Moray was primarily a healer, but what with the Reaping, people were extra cautious, and remained mostly uninjured. The Reaping. The event terrified Moray. Yes, most years someone trained and volunteered, but what if they didn't? Moray knew she didn't have any fighting skills whatsoever. She'd be helpless if she was chosen. And what if her brother, Trout, was chosen? She didn't know what she would do.

* * *

Alexander was meditating when his sister walked into his room. "How's it going Lex Lex?" He continued his deep breathing exercises, ignoring her. "Finally going to volunteer," she paused for a moment, smirking then continued, "You'd better do it soon, I saw dad filling out forms to sign you up as a Target." Targets were usually poor, orphaned, starving children worth nothing to no one. They were used as live targets by the training centers, and were supposed to live and be protected. But, as the saying goes, accidents happen. Frequently.

"Stop lying Phoenix." He broke out of his meditation to see his younger sister leaning against the door to his room, a cruel grin on her face.

"Oh Lex Lex, you know he doesn't want you. We all know he wished he had stuck a little harder two years ago." Two years ago, as part of his training, Alexander had been forced to duel his father. He lost, badly, and had the scar to prove it.

"Leave me alone Phoenix."

"Happy Hunger Games." She blew him a kiss before slinking out. Alexander tried to begin meditating again, but his thoughts were skewed. Phoenix always lied, but something about her words struck him as true. Alexander's father had always hated him. Hated how weak and pathetic he was, especially compared to his perfect sister. His sister was the main reason he had decided on volunteering this year. Alexander knew that he would _have_ to compete sometime, and he would much rather do in on a year his sister wasn't in the running as well. Not for sentimental reasons, but because she'd butcher him at the first chance she got. Alexander shrugged his shoulders and began doing warm-up exercises. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"And now to District 4! Let's see what amazing tributes they can rustle up this year," began the main commentator.

"They've had a good few years," replied another, "let's see if they can keep their streak going!"

District 4's town square was filled with a strange mix of people. While many of the children and adults had the worn-down look of a hard life, none possessed that absolutely hopeless air that radiated off of the lower Districts. There were still scattered bits of bright fabric and fashion, but the majority of the population was relatively plain and unassuming. But not weak. Physical labor and regular meals had changed that in District 4.

"And now, for our wonderful female tribute," the district escort paused here for a while, relishing in the moment, before finishing, "Moray Kannae!" A young girl, Hair done up in a braid, approached. You could tell she was nervous, despite the low probability of her being selected as a tribute. She walked up the stage to stand next to the District escort. "Fabulous, and now, are there any volunteers?" Silence. Moray's face grew more panicked, as the commentators gleefully noted. The district escort carried on, unperturbed.

"And for our male tribute, Marlin Fisher!" A boy rose from the sixteen year old section, face awash with nerves. As he ascended the stage, his eyes scanned the audience, begging anyone to take his place. "Any volunteers?"

"I volunteer," came a voice from the sixteen-year-old section. A boy with a large scar across his face approached the stage with an arrogant gate. Without the scar, he would have been hansom. With it, the commentators barely mentioned him, besides vacantly referencing his bulging muscles.

"And you are?"

"Alexander Ursa." The escort smiled in recognition.

"And you must be Mark's son!" The boy smiled, but it was a harsh smile.

"Of course."

"Mark, which Mark," began one of the commentators.

"Mark Ursa. He won about 20 years ago with that brutal finishing blow to the head of his District partner."

"Oh yes, that _was_ a fun year. I hope young Alexander can be half as entertaining!"

* * *

District 5

Anna shook off the newspapers she had been using as a blanket, and began muttering as she sulked to the District Square. It had only been a week since she had been turned out of the orphanage, but things hadn't exactly been going as planned. The little money she had been given was dwindling quickly, and she refused to take Olga's advice and just go to one of the many factories. Anna wanted to _do_ something with her life. Not put in X number of years of productive service before keeling over from the fumes. But now it was looking like she didn't have much choice in the matter.

* * *

Oat looked around the burned-out Governor's mansion that he called a home. It wasn't much, but it was much more than most people had. He carelessly stuffed some of the papers he had been working on, forged Require Immediate Power papers, and slouched out the door. He turned over a steady profit forging papers for people who wanted a little extra power, or a few more scraps of grain, but he knew deep down it wasn't going anywhere. He was barely making enough to avoid tesserae, and he knew he was in constant danger of being caught and killed. It was a horrible lifestyle. But it was still better than being slowly poisoned by the radiation leaking off the power plants.

* * *

"And here's District 5!" The commentators didn't really have anything else to add after that. No one really cared all that much, and until the tributes were Reaped, they usually filled the time with empty chatter and sponsor mentions. Thankfully, the District escort, a woman with pink hair and orange skin, was anxious to start.

"Let's see who our female tribute will be," she bubbled, oblivious to her District's glares. "Anna Rome!" A girl slouched in from the eighteen year olds. She was thin, very thin, but so was everyone else. And at least she wasn't crying.

"She might even live past the first day," one commentator optimistically remarked.

"And our male tribute," the escort continued, forgetting to ask for volunteers, "Oat Rubble." Another eighteen year old approached the stage, this one a little less angry, but face still stony. The escort was growing more exuberant by the second, as it didn't appear to her that either of her tributes were going to do something to make her look bad. The commentators barely spared the boy a glance, as they got caught up in some tangent debating how long it had been since District 5 had put forth a decent candidate.

* * *

District 6

Lizzie fidgeted as a washerwoman tried futily to get her to hold still while she scrubbed the dirt off her face. The woman's touch burned, and Lizzie sulked, know she wouldn't have time to meet up with her friends before the Reaping. She really wanted to see them. Reassure them through teasing that everything was going to be all right. Lizzie was a ward of the one further educational institution in the whole District, and as such often got involved in fights with the other children. They would wage wars all though the city, dodging buses, trains, and swearing adults. But not on Reaping day. On Reaping day, everyone was allied. The games and torment would resume tomorrow, but today, everyone was a friend.

* * *

Adam wasn't nervous. He knew, without a doubt, that he should be, but he wasn't. As he crouched under a bridge, waiting for the last possible moment to dart out and sign in for the Reaping, he was only passive. He had been on the run for three weeks, but now that was all coming to an end. There were too many Peacekeepers in the city to avoid capture for long, and he knew he'd rather give himself a fighting chance, than be taken into an alley and shot in the back of the head. As soon as no one looked like they were paying attention, he stood slowly, and began walking, practically invisible to all amid the crowd of other children doing the same, up to the tables. As he looked at the Peacekeeper signing him in, he couldn't help but give a bitter grin.

* * *

"And now, on to District 6!" At parties in the Capitol, most citizens had the privilege of being completely drunk by this point in the proceedings, but sadly the commentators did not have that same luxury. It was starting to get late, even for them, but this was their last broadcast before they could turn the job over to less popular commentators and catch the tail end of some parties. Sadly, this was one of the District escorts who liked to drone on, and they were forced to wait patiently for a speech about District pride to end before they got to the good part.

"And now, our female tribute." The commentator's ears pricked up at the phrase. "Lizzie Brooks." A small thirteen-year-old girl began glaring at the cameras as she walked up the steps.

"Looks like this one's got some fight in her," remarked one commentator, as the District escort called out for volunteers.

"And now, for our male tribute, Omni Reed." A sixteen year old walked bravely forward. A girl could bee seen braking out into full sobs on the female side. As he walked up to the stage, his District partner sized him up, before sticking up her nose at him.

"Any volunteers? Now, I-" The escort barely paused for volunteers before moving on, but he was cut off.

"I volunteer." Whispers ricocheted around the square, as a boy stepped up from the fourteen year old section. The boy on stage, Omni, darted down to rejoin his friends before his savior could change his mind.

"And your name?"

"Adam Grumman."

"Wonderful." The crowd continued to chatter, and the commentators joined them.

"Isn't this extraordinary," remarked one.

"Oh, my goodness, yes," replied another, before they turned to their viewers.

"It seems Adam Grumman is currently on the run! He killed a Peacekeeper three weeks ago!"

"Can he still volunteer? Will he be tried for his crimes?"

"I don't know! This is a new question for the Gamemakers, we'll have to wait to hear their final verdict." The commentators began a debate on the legality of Adam's status as a tribute, and whether it would be fair to let in someone who had already killed. The debate raged on until the first round of commentators was dismissed, and continued with the second round of commentators the moment they went on air.

* * *

**Alright, so here are the rules. I have devised a complex system of points for sponsorship, and various actions by you readers earns your chosen tribute points. Reviews are worth 1, 2, or 3 points depending on how complete they are. Additionally, users who submit multiple reviews gain more points than those for whom it is their first time submitting. (+1 point for the number of times you have reviewed previously.) Another way to earn points is to guess tribute's identity. Doing so will earn 10 points for your chosen tribute, if you are the first to guess. I will post when tribute's identities have been guessed, but for now, here is a list of their assumed names. (As a tip on guessing, many of the names I assigned are somehow related to their inspiration, for instance had I used Hunger Games characters, Gale Hawthorne's name might have been Storm Thornapple.)**

**Here is a list of the tributes by District. I will update this as people correctly guess names.  
**

**District 1:  
**

**F: Sapphire Silvae  
M: Pyrrhus Aeacid  
**

**District 2:  
**

******F: Camilla Hastae  
M: Pine Frigus**  


**District 3:  
**

**********F: Neon Lep  
M: Orion Partridge**  


**District 4:  
**

**************F: Moray Kannae  
M: Alexander Ursa**  


**District 5:  
**

******************F: Anna Rome  
M: Oat Rubble**  


**District 6:  
**

**********************F: Lizzie Brooks  
M: Adam Grumman**  


**District 7:  
**

**************************F: Poppy Gordon  
M: Valarian (Val) Papaveris**  


**District 8:  
**

******************************F: Dove Darling  
M: Cire (Tramp) Challis **  


**District 9:  
**

**********************************F: June Flewett  
M: Wolfsbane (Wolf) Narni**  


**District 10:  
**

**************************************F: Sable Joy  
M: Hunter Friend**  


**District 11:  
**

******************************************F: Jean Wilkins  
M: James Evans**  


**District 12:  
**

**********************************************F: Belladonna (Donna) Mallard  
M: Mason Anthony**  


******************************************P.S. If you guess correctly this time, you might want to save your points and give them to someone in the lower Districts.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

The Reaping, Part 2  
District 7

Poppy groaned as she rolled over to stop her screaming alarm. She didn't even have to get up this early for cheer leading practice. As she dressed, she tried not to think about why she had to wake so early, but the Reaping loomed over her. She tried to remind herself that she had never taken out any tesserae, that her family was well off due to her father's work with Primatech Paper Company, but by and large her attempts were futile. Anyone could be Reaped. She wasn't special. Just another girl trying to duck her head, and make her way unnoticed in the world. She'd had enough adventure for a lifetime when that crazy man had broken into her school, and Poppy wasn't looking for any more.

* * *

When Val woke, he had the strangest feeling of foreboding. This vague inclination that something bad was approaching. As he went downstairs, he tried to put the feeling out of his mind. He knew better than to mention it to his brother. Not today. Nathan would just knock him over the head and tell him to get his head out of the clouds. Val's head always seemed to be in the clouds these days. He hated this time of the year. Even if his family and friends escaped the horror of the Reaping unscathed, he knew that the same couldn't be said for other families in the District. And whenever he mentioned feeling sorry for the poorer children, the ones who had to take out tesserae, his mother just humped and told him to stop being so sappy. To count his blessings and take advantage of them. And Nathan was just like her. As Val dressed walked down to eat his silent breakfast with his family, he felt alone.

* * *

"Hello, and welcome to the second half of this year's Reaping Day! I'm your new host, Garrulous, and this is District 7!" The new announcer was an extremely pale man, with black hair, black lips and black eyes. He didn't even have a discernible pupil, just empty holes from lid to lid.

The commentators blabbered on about the possibly illegitimate volunteer from District 6, while the cameras lazily panned over potential tributes. They were thin. Very thin, but many had a stringy sort of muscle that bespoke of their laborious jobs.

"Well now, lets get down to the fun bit!" The District escort, a first-timer, looked a little surprised at the lack of response from her audience, but shrugged her shoulders and soldiered on. "Poppy Gordon!"

A blonde girl rose shakily from the seventeen-year-old section. By her nice clothes and non-emaciated body, the commentators guessed she was one of the District's wealthier citizens. She had a rather hopeless look on her face that deterred anyone from commenting on her looks. After the call for volunteers was met by silence, the escort quickly continued on.

"And now for our male tribute," she exclaimed, as she made another grand show of snagging a piece of paper. "Valerian Papaveris."

The boy, dark haired and hansom, according to the commentators, came from the eighteen year old section. His tailored suit suggested wealth, once again, and a faint murmur of glee ran around the poorer citizens. Finally a year when one of the rich had to pay. As the boy approached the stage, one of the cameras accidentally alighted on the girl, and enthusiastically noted that some faint tears had begun to run down her face. The vulturous commentators swarmed, leaving off their debate about the boy from 6 for the moment to make a few cruel remarks, before the cameras switched off on District 7, and moved on to District 8.

* * *

District 8

Dove pulled on a simple but elegant dress. Her family wasn't the wealthiest in the District, but they were far from lower class. As she walked down the stairs to breakfast, her father planted a kiss on her forehead, and she gave him an affectionate hug back.

"It'll be fine, Dove. You've only got four names in. It's going to be ok."

"I know," she replied, but the smile she gave him was strained.

"Try not to think about it, sweetie." He gave her another kiss on the top of her head, before sending her downstairs to eat. Dove tried to turn her thoughts to other matters, like her neighbor's antics, or a new dress to buy, but she couldn't quite manage it. Somehow, burying her head in the sand wasn't as easy as her father implied.

* * *

Tramp was digging around a dumpster looking for a bite to eat before the Reaping, but someone had just emptied out the bins. He briefly considered hunting out one of his sometimes-girlfriends, Peg, before he realized she was back in the homes again. Most of his friends went in and out of the homes pretty regularly, but Tramp made certain the same never happened to him. He had run away from them as soon as he was old enough to walk, and had stayed far away ever since.

Truth be told, Tramp wasn't his real name, but it was what everyone had called him as long as he could remember. His first Reaping, he had looked forward to finding his real name out. Looked forward to having people call him something that wasn't an insult. He had been disappointed. He was pretty sure his real name, Cire, was a girl's name, and a flowery one at that. Who the hell wanted to be named after a type design element on a piece of clothing? So he had stuck with Tramp, and owned it. As he shrugged his shoulders and went out to hunt down at least one girl to share the early morning with before the Reaping, he absentmindedly considered the idea that if he was Reaped, the whole District would here his idiotic name. As if he needed any other reason to be worried.

* * *

In District 8, the monotony of the Reapings was somewhat broken. As the mayor read out the Treaty of Treason, and the nervous potential tributes fretted, the District put on a fashion show. It was _the_ fashion show of the year, and the only thing most people looked forward to out of the later Districts. The next season's fashions were on display, and the country's top models always attended. Most of the commentator's talk centered around the show, and the Reaping proved only a slight interruption on the proceedings.

A small girl, Dove Darling, was selected for the girl tribute. She quickly began crying, although she tried desperately to hide it. The commentators barely paused in their discussion of the animalistic elements of one designer's evening gown line. The boy, a seventeen-year-old named Cire Challis was called, which provided a bit more entertainment. At first, no one reacted to the name. It seemed as though the boy had neither friends nor family to mourn him. However, when the scraggly youth had stepped forward, a few of the children had bizarrely laughed. Some bright young kid in the crowd exclaimed, "Cire?" with much bewilderment. The boy had barely paused as he flicked off the kid in question, much to the commentator's amusement. As he mounted the stage, he said, quite audibly, "It's Tramp. Not Cire." He spat out the word Cire with vehemence enough to confuse and embarrass the District escort, again to the audience's amusement.

"Well, that _was _an interesting tribute. Let's see who the lucky tributes are from District 9!"

* * *

District 9

It was June's first Reaping, and she was terrified. She hadn't slept at all the previous night, and had only managed a few hours the day before that. She wanted to be brave, and strong like her older siblings, but sometimes she just couldn't manage it. And she wasn't really worried for herself. June knew she her name was only in the Reaping one measly time, but Peter's was in more than a dozen times. But all she could do was pray that none of her family members would be chosen.

* * *

Wolf was several hours into his morning when he realized it was Reaping Day. He had risen, as usual, at the crack of dawn and begun work at his Prepping House, one of the many houses where grain was turned into dough and kneaded before being shipped off to the Capitol. He rain or shine, holiday or no, the workers at Prepping Houses rose well before the sun. After all, the Capitol's bakeries weren't going to make the food themselves. It was only when the fourth enormous order of the day arrived that he finally realized why the bakeries were stocking up on early-morning goodies. Reaping Day. And that meant plenty of all-night parties that required fresh doughnuts and pastries. The thought made him feel queasy.

* * *

It was times like these when he had to stop himself from himself from thinking bad things. Stop himself from feeling bitter that he had been forced to take all of his family's tesserae. Stop himself from wishing that he had given just a little bit to his younger brother Edmond. Wolf pushed the thoughts away. He knew he would be devastated if any of his siblings was chosen, even if they got on his nerves at times. So instead of stewing in his puddle of ill will, he tried to put a bounce in his step and a confident smile on his face as he went home. For the sake of his brother and sisters, he would at least pretend to believe that everything would be all right.

"Looks like it will be a beautiful morning for celebrations in District 9," began one commentator. Most of the others were still lingering their talk on the fashion show of the previous District, but it fell on someone to keep talk somewhat on topic. "It looks like our female tribute is about to be selected!" And she was, the escort dug his hand into the bowl, and quickly brought forth the name.

"June Flewett!" A whimper came from the twelve year old section as a little girl walked up to the stage. She had fixed a brave look on her face, but little tears streamed from her eyes, and the crowd gave an angry murmur in sympathy, as it always did once they knew their own daughters were safe. No one volunteered.

"And for our male tribute, Wolfsbane Narni." This time a tall blond rose from the fifteen-year-old section. One commentator made a brief mention of the boy's strength, but he was otherwise ignored in favor of more fashion-oriented topics.

* * *

District 10

Sable was thankful for the chance to sleep in on a weekend, no matter the reason. She tried not to be shallow, but after her father's recently published novel became popular in the Capitol, she found it harder to fear the Reaping. Surely her family held some sort of impunity. The only shadow that fell on that plan was her best friend, and adopted brother, Hunter. It wasn't Hunter's fault, but he had offended the Capitol. Before she had come to know him, Hunter had lived with his uncle. An uncle who, unknown to Hunter, had worked as a spy for the Capitol, hunting out traitors and other threats to the nation. And when Hunter's uncle had died, they had forced him to take his uncle's place.

And Hunter had done well. He was about the bravest person Sable knew. Hunter had saved her life, and the lives of many others in Panem on any countless times. But what the Capitol was doing was wrong. They abused and threatened him, and each mission he went on almost killed him, a dozen times over. Hunter had always said he wished he could get out, but it had taken his previous guardian's death to make him finally brave enough to tell the Capitol to stick it where the sun don't shine. After that, he had moved in with Sable's family, a decision she heartily approved of. Hunter was cute. Very cute.

* * *

Hunter was worried. He put on a brave face as he walked downstairs to eat dinner with Sable and her family, but he couldn't keep his thoughts from straying down dark corridors. Had he made the wrong decision, telling the Capitol to find another spy, telling them that there were plenty of volunteers if they just looked in on the audience of any action flick? Hunter knew he would find out soon. It was Reaping Day, and he knew that no matter how few times his name was in the bowl, there was a significant chance he would be Reaped. And what if Sable was Reaped? He tried to focus his thoughts. He knew, in the back of his mind, that if he had continued to work for them, he was as good as dead anyway, and her family with him. But it was hard to think of that with the Reaping looming in his face. If Sable were Reaped, Hunter didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself.

* * *

"Welcome to District 10," exclaimed one exuberant announcer. "Will this be the year to turn aside District 10's 26 year losing streak?" The District itself didn't really think so. Beaten down faces stared up from every angle.

"And now, for our female tribute, Sable Joy!" Sable looked anything but joyous as she ascended the stage. She looked shocked and confused, and more than a little bit terrified. When the call for volunteers produced no result, the escort quickly moved on to the male tribute.

"Hunter Friend!" The boy approaching from the fifteen-year-old section looked livid. There was no fear on his expression, only a dark type of anger, as if he was already contemplating the murder of his foes. He was a hit with the commentators.

"Look at his determination! And so strong! I think we've got ourselves a real contender." What went unmentioned for the time being was the boy's looks. With his blonde hair and tanned muscled skin, he was attractive enough to turn heads and make girls sigh. Yes, while Hunter Friend might not have been happy about the day's turn of events, the same could not be said for the citizens of the Capitol.

* * *

District 11

Jean almost wished they had school before the Reaping. At least in school, everything was laid out and nicely organized, and you could forget about what was coming for a while. Instead, Jean sat around reading, practically invisible to her parents as they went about treating minor wounds from the comfort of their own home. The weren't doctors, not even informal ones, but they still tried to help out when they could, which was more than most people. They dealt with little, non-life threatening things. They re-set bones, and pulled out teeth. It had interested Jean the first few years of her life, but after she began school, and learned about all the other things there were to know, she had lost interest in the family business. But despite her family's diverging opinion on the importance of tooth decay, and the relatively small amount of time she spent with them, considering school and working in the fields, and hanging out with her friends, she loved them. And when they sat together to eat breakfast and pointedly ignore the impending Reaping, she realized she might have inherited more of their personality than she had thought.

* * *

"Make breakfast, you ungrateful brat," was James's wakeup call, as it had been for most of his life. He pulled himself out of the cupboard under the stairs, and stretched himself out. Despite his extremely small frame, he was just getting too big for his childhood bedroom. James set the table, and began preparing breakfast. Breakfast for the rest of the houses' inhabitants, that is. James didn't get breakfast. There wasn't enough to go around, as his aunt always informed him before giving his cousin Dudley two shares of food. James had quickly realized that signing up for the family's tesserae wouldn't get him any more to eat.

As soon as his family had eaten, James left the house. He was doing that more and more, recently. Even school, or working in the fields was like a dream vacation compared to the abuse he suffered at home. He thought briefly about stopping by either Jean or Weasel's houses, but quickly discarded the idea. Jean would want to spend time with her family, and Weasel's mother would insist on feeding him food they couldn't spare. So instead, James walked to the Reaping alone, and quickly signed in. He would have twenty-five names in that glass bowl. He could only hope that the name they chose wasn't his.

* * *

As the commentators knew, but never mentioned, there wasn't really one Reaping in District 11. Instead, there were town squares located all over the District, where people gathered in terror. One hour before the District went live, names would be drawn from a universal bowl, until both the male and female tributes selected were present in the same square. _That_ town square would be filmed, and the tributes would be Reaped, as the other town squares were dismissed. The commentators weren't privileged enough to know who the tributes were, or even what square they were from, but they _did_ know, that they were already chosen.

"And now, for our female tribute, Jean Wilkins." A bushy-haired girl approached from the sixteen-year-old section. Her face was closed off, but she bit her lip nervously. After the call for volunteers was met with silence, she turned her face down, but refused to cry.

"And our male tribute, Weasel Donald." The girl's head shot up at the name, and as red-haired boy approached from the sixteen-year-old section, faint tears ran down her face. The boy smiled awkwardly at her, as if trying to reassure her, but his expression was one of bewilderment and fear.

"Any volunteers?"

"I volunteer," came an unexpected reply. The red-haired boy looked up.

"James? No, James, don't-"

"Too late," the extraordinarily small boy replied as he walked onto the stage. As Weasel was escorted off the stage, amid his own protests, the volunteer walked over to Jean. She threw her arms around him, sobbing. The cameras caught a few faint tears in the boy's eyes as well.

"Um, well, what is your name?"

"James Evans," replied the boy. The commentators were torn. On one hand he had volunteered, and the attachment forming between the two tributes was fascinating, on the other, neither the boy nor the girl looked likely to last more than about five minutes. And they had both started crying. The debate livened up the few minutes during the Treaty of Treason, and carried them over into the final Reaping.

* * *

District 12

As Donna tripped down the stairs in her house, she cursed the invention of high heels. They were murder, for a girl like her, who could barely walk on a level surface without tripping in the first place. She ate breakfast in silence with her father, a Peacekeeper. Neither she nor her father was very good at making small talk, and most of their conversations were nonexistent. Especially when it came to uncomfortable topics.

They said not a word as they grabbed their coats, and headed toward the Reaping. Her father had originally been from District 2, and would probably have moved back there a long time ago, were it not for his marriage. The marriage itself hadn't lasted long, but Officer Mallard had made the decision to remain in District 12 for his daughter. As a citizen of District 12, Donna was eligible for the Reaping, a fact that still confused some of her classmates. Donna eventually left her father, to stand by Jessica, who couldn't even stop her inane discussion of boys for Reaping Day. Donna exchanged a look with her other friend, Angela, and waited for the Reaping to start.

* * *

Mason helped his mother to the Reaping. She was sick. Not sick enough to skip, of course, but sick enough that she could barely stand up straight, and walking was a challenge. He knew she didn't really like asking for help, but he gave what assistance was needed. On his way to the town square, he ignored most of the population. With the exception of a few of his close friends, most of the District's inhabitants bored him beyond belief. He dropped his mother off by one of the Town's other middle class citizens, praying that they'd look after her while he was gone. Then he left, signed in, and tried to find friends to stand by for the next hour.

* * *

Talk during the District 12 Reaping was not centered on District 12. In fact, the commentators barely took enough time to acknowledge the Reaping as the female tribute, Belladonna Mallard, face planted on her way across the stage, and the reasonably attractive male tribute, Mason Anthony, was called up. Instead, their talk focused around the controversial decision by the Gamemakers to allow the Peacemaker murderer, or the Peace-murderer, as someone had dubbed him, from six to compete. They argued back and forth about the fairness of him competing, as well as his chances of actually winning. The debate carried them through the end of the Reapings, and launched their post-Reaping discussion. The tributes from 12 were quickly forgotten.

* * *

**Well, now you've met all of the tributes. So far, the identity of one tribute has been correctly guessed. Two things I forgot to mention, firstly both tributes from the same District are from the same Series. Secondly, you may guess only one tribute per review. Otherwise the rules are as follows (If you've already read this, don't read it again, I just copy pasted):**

****** I have devised a complex system of points for sponsorship, and various actions by you readers earns your chosen tribute points. Reviews are worth 1, 2, or 3 points depending on how complete they are. Additionally, users who submit multiple reviews gain more points than those for whom it is their first time submitting. (+1 point for the number of times you have reviewed previously.) Another way to earn points is to guess tribute's identity. Doing so will earn 10 points for your chosen tribute, if you are the first to guess. I will post when tribute's identities have been guessed, but for now, here is a list of their assumed names. (As a tip on guessing, many of the names I assigned are somehow related to their inspiration, for instance had I used Hunger Games characters, Gale Hawthorne's name might have been Storm Thornapple.)**

**Here is a list of the tributes by District. I will update this as people correctly guess names.  
**

**District 1:  
**

**F: Sapphire Silvae  
M: Pyrrhus Aeacid  
**

**District 2:  
**

******F: Camilla Hastae  
M: Pine Frigus**  


**District 3:  
**

**********F: Neon Lep  
M: Orion Partridge: The first correctly guessed tribute, Artemis Fowl. Orion, because that is the name of Artemis's split personality, and Partridge because Partridges are a type of fowl.**  


**District 4:  
**

**************F: Moray Kannae  
M: Alexander Ursa**  


**District 5:  
**

******************F: Anna Rome  
M: Oat Rubble**  


**District 6:  
**

**********************F: Lizzie Brooks  
M: Adam Grumman**  


**District 7:  
**

**************************F: Poppy Gordon  
M: Valarian (Val) Papaveris**  


**District 8:  
**

******************************F: Dove Darling  
M: Cire (Tramp) Challis **  


**District 9:  
**

**********************************F: June Flewett  
M: Wolfsbane (Wolf) Narni**  


**District 10:  
**

**************************************F: Sable Joy  
M: Hunter Friend**  


**District 11:  
**

******************************************F: Jean Wilkins  
M: James Evans**  


**District 12:  
**

**********************************************F: Belladonna (Donna) Mallard  
M: Mason Anthony**

**Thanks, hope you like the update!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Language warning. AKA, teenagers speaking like teenagers rather than like teenagers in young adult novels. **

* * *

Chapter 3, Saying Goodbye

District 1

By the time Sapphire's friends had finished wishing her a final 'good luck,' and her boyfriend had given a 'see-you-soon' kiss, she didn't have much time left to talk with her mother. It would be a lie to say she hadn't planned it that way. But, as her mother's arms closed around her in a hug, she felt surprisingly comforted.

"Remember your training, and you'll be fine." Sapphire's mother had told her the moment Sapphire had informed her of her decision to volunteer that she wouldn't Mentor for her. It had hurt, but Sapphire could see her mother's logic. She didn't want to become emotionally compromised, and make poor decisions because of it. As Sapphire drew back from her mother's hug, she could see her mother studying her. "You look beautiful. Here." Her mother held out a ring, one decorated with an elegant symbol, called a yawe, on it. Tears came to Sapphire's eyes. The ring had been her father's gift to her father upon their engagement, and her mother had worn it ever since, despite her father's passing.

"Thank you, mother." Her mother gave a rare smile.

"I'll be expecting it back when you return." Sapphire hugged her mother again, and held on until the Peacekeepers arrived.

* * *

Tornac was the only person to visit Murtagh. For once, they kept the conversation casual. All the advice that could be given about the Games had already been said. Instead, they talked about normal things. It was only near the end of the hour that Tornac brought up the Games.

"Watch out for your District partner. Her mother was honorable, but extremely skilled. And her daughter seems a little more inclined to bend the rules. If you don't keep an eye on her, I'd expect a blade in your back." Murtagh only nodded. "The good news is, that her mother isn't Mentoring. But I'd still be careful. The Mentors will like her more, because they have to spend time with her mother if she doesn't come home." Murtagh nodded again, expression serious. Tornac punched him on the arm. "And lighten up a little. You've trained longer, and hard than her. I have faith you'll do well." Murtagh's throat tightened a little. That was the closest Tornac had ever come to actually praising him. Murtagh gave him a cocky smile as the Peacekeepers escorted his only friend from the room.

"I won't let you down."

* * *

District 2

"What on earth were you _thinking_ Camilla?" Her father was stern, but Camilla only glared back petulantly.

"You let Robb volunteer."

"Robb is older than you, Camilla," replied her mother.

"You wouldn't have let me volunteer anyway. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't fight." Her father sighed.

"Camilla." Camilla refused to look at her father. "_Camilla_." Camilla looked up. "Couldn't we have just talked about it," he asked, exasperated.

"Talk about it? Ned!" said her mother, turning to her father.

"I've been training, I promise." Camilla turned her doe eyes up at her father.

"Out of the question, young lady," responded her mother.

"Catelyn. She's already volunteered."

The debate continued until the end of the hour, as Camilla steadily won her father over to her side. However, the argument picked back up again as soon as she got onto the train, and within earshot of her brother, Robb. It was a long night for Camilla, but she held her ground. She knew she was ready. It just took a while to convince everyone else.

* * *

Pine's hour was full of laughs and good times with the other boys of the Training Center. Tradition dictated that none of the trainers were allowed to ruin the tribute's last hour at home by berating them with advice, and the tributes always took advantage of it. The hour without supervision was always a time of joking and amusement. Sure, sometimes the guest of honor didn't come back, but that was a risk they had all long-since come to terms with. And as Pine padded his friends on the back, and accepted their "good luck"s and "you've got this man"s he knew volunteering was worth it. It was worth it to have made these friends, and it would be even more worth it when he could repay their trust in him by winning.

* * *

District 3

Neon's stern father was the first to see her. Their conversation was awkward, and in some ways, she was guiltily happy once he was gone. Her next visitor was her close techy friend, Foaly. District 3's population was divided between techies, the ones who designed gadgets and gizmos for the Capitol, and workers, who manufactured the technology. Foaly was brilliant, and the IQ tests had easily put him in the techy classes back in school. But, that hadn't stopped him from being her friend. Neon suspected it was partially because she was the only one who could stand him complaining about Opal, one of his main production rivals. Orion, the boy she had been Reaped against, was the other.

"Neon, don't underestimate Orion. He's smart, and that's coming from me." Modesty was not usually one of Foaly's strong points, and Neon let out a chuckle.

"I'll figure it out, alright Foaly." Foaly nodded. He looked lost.

"Just get him as fast as possible. He may be young, but he's dangerous. You don't want to hear half of the crimes the Capitol suspects he may have been involved in. And he's got this-"

"Foaly," Neon said, catching his attention. "It's going to be ok. You just need to trust me." She smiled up at him. And gave him one last hug before he was dragged out of the room by the Peacekeepers, and she was forced to brave the cameras again getting into the train, and leaving her District behind forever.

* * *

Butler was Orion's butler, bodyguard, and general helper. If general helpers were prone to breaking the hands of those who irritated their employers, discreetly moved large amounts of stolen artifacts, and were some of the most deadly people alive. Butler was also Orion's only visitor. This would have bothered most children Orion's age, but Orion wasn't most children. Where most children would have cried when facing faced with such dire circumstances, Orion planned. Butler listened patiently as his charge issued order after order.

"First, contact my lawyer. As tribute's families are unable to sponsor their own children, a rule which, by the way, was only instituted during the 23rd Games to stop a well-known dissenter's children from benefiting from her father's illegal activities, I have signed over the Fowl fortune to you for the time being. I left instructions for how much money is to be sent, and when it is to be sent, and compiled a list to be sent with the money to my Mentors to insure they are aware of how to spend it. Secondly, you brought the items I told you to?" Orion had been texting Butler subtly throughout the Reaping Ceremony via a miniature cell phone.

"Here." Orion gave a vulpine smile as Butler handed over a tiny, skin toned speaker, which Orion immediately hid inside his ear. He attached another small skin toned patch, this time microphone, to his jaw. When he had finished, the patches were invisible.

"And the magnet?" Artemis accepted the small, but incredibly powerful magnet.

"My District token. Now, listen carefully, there isn't much time." Artemis spent the next hour outlining his plan, and giving Butler his instructions.

* * *

District 4

When Moray's brother, and her Gran Gran arrived, she threw her arms around them, trying to hold back her sobs. Her normally comical brother was serious for once, and her Gran Gran only patted her gently on the back. Moray's mother had been killed by Peacekeepers when she was very young. Her father had been sent away on a mission by the Capitol to retrieve a new variety of exotic fish, one that had never graced the Capitol. He had been gone a long time, and sometimes Moray doubted whether he was ever coming back.

"Moray, you need to try to stop crying," said her brother. He lacked tact, but Moray knew he was right, and tried to gain control over her weeping. "You're going to be ok, alright?" He tried to give her a cheery grin, but it came out as more of a grimace. "You're a good healer. Get in with the Careers on that, and then ditch them when the time comes. You can fish for food. You'll be fine." Moray thought he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince her. She thought this wasn't a good time to bring up the fact that she didn't think she could ever kill anyone.

"I love you."

"We love you too."

* * *

After a fun-filled goodbye from his girlfriend, May, Alexander was not looking forward to seeing his family. He greeted his mother with a firm hug, but barely acknowledge his father and younger sister.

"So, Lex Lex, finally became brave enough to volunteer? I guess this is the last time I'll be seeing you." Alexander tried to pretend the words didn't hurt as her mother fiercely berated his sister.

"So, you won't be Mentoring, father?" Alexander was tentatively hopeful, but his hopes were soon crushed.

"Of course not. I can not take almost a month away from your sister's training. My brother will Mentor you." Alexander put on a blank face.

"Yes father." On one hand, he liked his Uncle, on the other, he was still insulted that his father had rejected him. That was ok, though. In the period since his father had refused to train him, Alexander had finally found something that he was good at. Something that he could do better than his younger sister. He was looking forward to proving his family that he was more capable than they had thought. He felt bad about his vindictive thoughts as his mother gave him a hug.

"You'll do wonderfully, Alexander. I'm so proud of you."

* * *

District 5

Anna Rome's goodbye room was almost filled to bursting. Many of her younger friends from the orphanage had come, as well as some who, like her, had recently graduated. All the faces were sad, and many of the kids were sobbing as they threw their arms around her. The older girls comforted the younger girls, and the younger girls tried to look brave for the even younger girls, who were just confused. Reaping season was always hard in such a large, poor family, and it wasn't the first time they had sent one of their number off to die on television. Anna tried to keep her chin up while they consoled each other, and tried to maintain her fighting spirit. She had to believe that she had a chance, and wasn't already essentially dead.

* * *

No one came to say goodbye to Oat. He could hear sobbing, and the loud tramping of feet in the other room, where his district partner was talking with her friends. He propped up his feet on the couch and lay back; trying to organize his thoughts in the hour reprieve he had been granted. By the time the hour was up, he was ready to leave his District, and not look back.

* * *

District 6

Lizzie spent the first few minutes of her hour fending off the adults in her life. Her nursemaid since she was born, the president of the college, the chef, the baker, the priest, all the people who had ghosted around the background of her life. Once she had finally gotten rid of them, her friends arrived. More than friends, her comrades in arms, and her closest allies in her childhood scuffles. She threw her arms around her absolute best friend, Roger, a kitchen boy. She and her friends were deadly serious, as they always were before planning a counter-attack on one of their rivals. But this was bigger than that. The stakes were higher than ever, and Lizzie knew she wouldn't have her gang backing her up. So she put on a brave face, swore at them until they were all laughing, and did her best to ignore her impending fate.

* * *

Adam wasn't allowed to talk with his mother. He wasn't able to say goodbye to her, and she was the only one who he _would_ have said goodbye to. Instead, he sat on a bench, surrounded by a few glaring Peacekeepers, as people bustled around him, yelling at each other. He had created a problem by volunteering, and the few higher officials in District 6 were trying to sort out the ensuing mess. But he knew what their final decision would be. He knew he would be allowed to compete. They had accepted his presence on stage, and would look like idiots calling the other boy back. Besides, having him there would make the Game more interesting. So Adam sat on his bench, tried to look unobtrusive, and a little bit dull, and waited out his final hour in District 6.

* * *

District 7

Poppy's goodbyes were full of hugs, condolences, and half-hearted "you'll be fine"s. Her friends from school came, as well as her family. She was partially in shock through the whole thing. She just blurted "I love you"s, and repeated her mantra of "I'm fine," hoping that it would all turn out to be some horrible dream. She wasn't special. Why had _she_ been singled out? She had ducked her head all her life, played by all the rules, and _this_ was what she got for it? Poppy didn't know what to think, but thankfully, caught up in their own world as everyone else was, no one expected her to. She didn't even realize she was still sobbing.

* * *

After Val's friends left, his family came in. It was a small family, with just his mother and brother, but he loved them all the same. His father had died of a sudden heart attack, and it had shaken his family to the bone. But, standing before him, they looked as strong as ever.

"Valarian, you need to toughen up if you're going to come home to us. None of your normal wishy washy nonsense about helping people. If someone is about to fall off a cliff, for God's sake, push them over, don't pull them back up." His mother was a stern woman, and she didn't have much room in her for the same regard for others that Val had.

"Val, just ignore the other tributes. Some of them will be younger than you, and you'll feel sorry for them, but remember that _they_ won't return the favor. They'll stab you in the back, so you just have to do it first." Val thought his brother Nathan would have been better off being Reaped. He was so much more sure of himself than Val was, and stronger too.

"You'll be fine, dear," said his mother, kissing him on the head. "Just leave all those good-guy instincts behind here, and grow up."

* * *

District 8

Dove was crying as she stumbled into the room to meet with her parents. Her father held her and stroked her hair, but she couldn't get control over herself. She couldn't believe that she had actually been Reaped. She had always been terrified of the Reaping, everyone was, but she had always assured herself that she wouldn't be chosen. She had never even taken out tesserae!

"Why did it have to be _me_," she sobbed. Her father didn't really have a response for that, and her mother was crying too. All and all, her goodbyes were a depressing occasion.

* * *

"Fancy place they've got here," said Peg. Tramp shrugged. He didn't quite think that the truth of his Reaping had sunk in yet, and he was playing it cool.

"Looks like even Tramp can't dodge the Peacekeepers forever," began another boy. Tramp had never liked him much. "Or should I call you Cire, now?" Tramp punched him, and the others laughed as the boy doubled over. Tramp was very lean, and people often forgot how unhealthy an idea it was to get on his bad side.

"It's Tramp."

"Settle down, kid. Save it for the Games," reminded Peg stalking closer. Tramp lounged on the couch, pulling her down into his lap.

"Where ya been, Peg? Haven't you gotten out of the orphanages yet?"

"They've gotten all uptight lately. Don't seem to think we'll do much good out on our own." Tramp laughed.

"I'd probably have to agree with them." He turned to the rest of the teens around him. "Now fuck off, I'm gonna have some fun before they drag me onto that train," he stated, before focusing his attention on Peg for the rest of the hour.

* * *

District 9

June spent her hour crying with her family, as they tried to reassure her that she would be ok. That she would attract sponsors because she was so cute, and that everyone would love her. That she would be able to hide until the end, and no one would be able to find her, and that she would be able to come home. A part of her, the jealous part, wished her sister Susan had volunteered to take her place. At least Susan was pretty, and the pretty girls always got sponsored. Susan was pretty, and sophisticated, and June knew she wasn't either of those two things. The more she thought about it, the more she cried.

* * *

Wolf spent his hour trying to comfort his younger siblings. He knew it was his duty to try to make them feel better, but he actually wanted to scream. Why couldn't _he_ be comforted? He was the one who was actually getting Reaped. _He_ was the one who could easily die. But he grit his teeth, and tried to put on a brave face. If he wasn't going to be brave for his siblings, no one would. His father had died after stepping into a Tracker Jacker nest that had fallen out of a tree. And his mother had always been frail. Even now, she was weeping into his shirt. But Wolf patted her on the back, and hugged his younger sisters, and told them that he would see them again soon, it was all he could do.

* * *

District 10

Sable was sobbing. How had it all gone so wrong so fast? One moment she had been happy. She had had a sexy boyfriend, her parents were making money, and everything was going right. But now… She sobbed some more as her parents comforted her.

"Don't be mad at Hunter," she mumbled through her tears, "it's not his fault." She didn't see her parents exchange tired and desperate looks behind her back.

"We won't sweetie," her father replied through gritted teeth. "You'll be fine. Stick with Hunter, and he'll protect you."

"But only one of us can come back," she moaned in reply, crying harder.

"Look at me, Sable." She looked up. "You need to make sure that it's you. Please," her father begged, "for us. You're our only daughter. I can't loose you."

"I promise," she choked out, but Sable wasn't entirely certain if she meant it.

* * *

Hunter punched the wall in his room. It didn't make him feel any better, but now his hand smarted. Stupid. How could he have been so _stupid_? He had thought that they would leave him alone. Or at least that they would keep Sable out of it. How could he have been so naïve? It was all his fault. Never say no to the Capitol. Why hadn't he been able to listen to that simple mantra that had been instilled in him since day one. He was pacing angrily, stalking back and forth, when the door opened, and his friend Tom came out.

"Hunter!"

"Hello Tom." He replied, as his friend grabbed him in a hug.

"It's not your fault, Hunter."

"Yes, it is." Hunter fixed him with such a fierce glare that Tom couldn't find it in him to argue.

"You have to come back."

"It's _Sable_. It's my fault she's even in this mess. I have to bring her back."

"_Hunter_, you can't be thinking about giving up! I need you."

"People close to me have a habit of dying, Tom, I don't want that to happen to you too. It's better off this way."

"Shut up. We're your friends for a reason, Hunter. Don't push us away, and let them own you completely. Don't let the Capitol win."

"They already have," replied Hunter, voice flat.

* * *

District 11

The Peacekeepers had to tear Jean away from her friend. She couldn't believe what was going on. Her life had been an emotional whirlwind for the past few minutes. First was the shock and surprise at hearing her name chosen, followed by that mind numbing terror at realizing that it wasn't a dream, and that she was actually going to have to compete. Then was the despair at hearing Weasel's name called, followed by a momentary bit of joy when she heard someone call out to be a volunteer. The joy had quickly turned to horror once she realized it was James stepping up to take his place. She shouldn't have been surprised. It was such a James thing to do. Jean barely noticed as her mother and father were brought into the room.

"You'll be fine dear. You're smart. You can make a plan, and you're going to be all right." This didn't comfort Jean, who continued to sob.

"Why did it have to be James too? Why?"

"You're smart. You'll work something out. You'll come home to us, all right?" Jean nodded blindly, not knowing what she was agreeing to, only hearing the tone in her father's voice.

"It's going to be ok, you'll see."

* * *

James was on an adrenaline rush. He couldn't quite believe what was going on. Jean had been chosen first, and he had been absolutely crushed. But then when Weasel had been called up too, he couldn't take it. He had actually volunteered. He'd had to. Weasel had a family. He had people who loved and cared about him. All James had was his mother's sister's family, who hated him.

The moment he entered the room, the door flew open and he was engulfed by a sobbing woman. "Oh, James, I'm so sorry. And thank you, and oh my dear why did you have to-" mumbled the sobbing woman in front of him.

"Mrs. Dondald, there's really no need to-"

"James Evans, you right prat," said his friend, interrupting him.

"Weasel?"

"Why'd you have to do that? What am I supposed to do? You and Jean are both-" Weasel broke down mid rant, and threw his arms around James as well. James was feeling a little overwhelmed as he realized the whole Donald clan was in the room, all nine of them. The eldest Donald child, Bill, gave him a nod over his mother's shoulder, thanking him. The whole group thanked him. Loudly and often, until James shoved them out of his room so that they could see Jean. Then his relatives walked in, as if they believed that somehow their friends would know and gossip if they didn't see their nephew off. James ignored them, wishing they would leave, and they did the same for him. They offered him a gruff, good luck when the Peacekeepers came, and James was glad to see them go.

* * *

District 12

Jessica was the first one in Donna's room to say her goodbyes. Her sudden appearance, and heartfelt hug made Donna glance around to see if seeing off the tributes had suddenly become a cool new trend. One of her other friends, Angela, was quick to join her too. As Jessica sobbed and wailed, Donna cried quietly with Angela, who held her hand. Even an obnoxious boy in her grade, Mike, had come to see her off. Donna hoped blankly that he and Jessica would get together, now that she was gone. The two deserved each other.

* * *

Mason was stoic as he greeted his mother, laying a hand on her trembling back. His friends had already come and gone, and now it was time for him to say goodbye to her. He didn't want to. For so much of his life, it had been just the two of him, and now he was leaving her. Leaving her when she was sick and needed him.

"I love you mom," he said.

"I love you too," she replied weakly.

* * *

******Once again, here are the rules:  
**

******I have devised a complex system of points for sponsorship, and various actions by you readers earns your chosen tribute points. Reviews are worth 1, 2, or 3 points depending on how complete they are. Additionally, users who submit multiple reviews gain more points than those for whom it is their first time submitting. (+1 point for the number of times you have reviewed previously.) Another way to earn points is to guess tribute's identity. Doing so will earn 10 points for your chosen tribute, if you are the first to guess. I will post when tribute's identities have been guessed, but for now, here is a list of their assumed names. (As a tip on guessing, many of the names I assigned are somehow related to their inspiration, for instance had I used Hunger Games characters, Gale Hawthorne's name might have been Storm Thornapple.) Tributes from the same District are from the same series, and no one is from the HUnger Games. You may guess one tribute per review.  
**

**Here is a list of the tributes by District. I will update this as people correctly guess names.  
**

**District 1:  
**

**F: Sapphire Silvae  
M: Pyrrhus Aeacid  
**

**District 2:  
**

******F: Camilla Hastae  
M: Pine Frigus**  


**District 3:  
**

**********F: Neon Lep  
M: Orion Partridge: The first correctly guessed tribute, Artemis Fowl. Orion, because that is the name of Artemis's split personality, and Partridge because Partridges are a type of fowl.**  


**District 4:  
**

**************F: Moray Kannae  
M: Alexander Ursa**  


**District 5:  
**

******************F: Anna Rome  
M: Oat Rubble**  


**District 6:  
**

**********************F: Lizzie Brooks  
M: Adam Grumman**  


**District 7:  
**

**************************F: Poppy Gordon  
M: Valarian (Val) Papaveris**  


**District 8:  
**

******************************F: Dove Darling  
M: Cire (Tramp) Challis **  


**District 9:  
**

**********************************F: June Flewett  
M: Wolfsbane (Wolf) Narni**  


**District 10:  
**

**************************************F: Sable Joy  
M: Hunter Friend**  


**District 11:  
**

******************************************F: Jean Wilkins  
M: James Evans: Harry Potter. James is his middle name, Evans is his mother's maiden name.**  


**District 12:  
**

**********************************************F: Belladonna (Donna) Mallard  
M: Mason Anthony**

**Thanks, hope you like the update!**


	4. Chapter 4

**So sorry for the long wait. Internet issues, but they're fixed now. The pace should be picking up too.**

* * *

District 6

As the door slid shut, separating the District 6 tributes from the flurry of cameras outside, the children sized each other up. The boy, Adam, saw a skinny girl, about his own age. She had dirt on her nose, but her dress was pretty. She was brave too, or else she would already have been crying. She was sizing him up, he knew, but she didn't have that mean look kids got when they were going to become cruel and dangerous. He knew that look well. Whenever his mother had one of her bad times, and started jumping at shadows and making him count all of the bricks on a wall or all the leaves on a bush, he had learned to watch for that look. People who thought children couldn't be malicious were dead wrong.

"I'm Lizzie," said the girl abruptly, thrusting out her hand. Adam took it.

"Adam."

"Is it true you're a murderer? I heard a Peacekeeper talking about it."

"I guess." To Adam's surprise, Lizzie smiled.

"We should be allies." She stated it as if it was settled and done, but Adam looked her up and down in confusion. She was plain. She didn't look strong. She might be bold, but that wouldn't necessarily help her in the Arena.

"Why would I want to be allies with you?" She either had a list prepared, or she thought quickly.

"You'll need someone to help you. You'll have to sleep in the arena, and you'll need someone to watch your back when you're fighting. I can find food and other people. You need someone to help you." Adam gave her an incredulous look, but was saved from replying by the arrival of their District escort.

"Well, you should be ashamed of yourself Mr. Grumman. You've caused quite a few important people a great deal of difficulty." Adam could tell that she didn't mind whatsoever. In fact, the escort, looked positively gleeful.

"I'm Meliandras," she purred, offering a heavily manicured hand. Adam politely offered his in return, but Lizzie just stared at it with a look that clearly stated, 'If you think I'm touching you, you're out of your mind.'

"The two of you should check you your rooms. They've got all sorts of wonderful clothes and toys to play with." As she pushed them into their respective rooms, his District partner gave the woman a glare.

"I don't like to play with toys. Have you ever seen a dead body? Not on the screens, I mean up close?" The District escort looked a little thrown by the quick change in conversation.

"I don't…"

"Once my uncle killed a man, just by looking at him. He just gave him one glance, and the man was dead before he even hit the ground. His eyeballs started bleeding, and his tongue got all big and swollen, and everything. He was starting to teach me how to do it this week." Adam stared at her. The District escort was thrown as well.

"Oh. Well that's… fascinating. Here's your room." The escort couldn't leave fast enough, and then Adam was stuck alone with his strange District partner. She opened her mouth to start speaking again, but Adam turned and closed the door before she could say anything.

Lizzie was mad when her District partner shut the door in her face, but then she just shrugged her shoulders and went into her own room. She was smiling by the time that her door closed. He was a murderer. Lizzie let out a sigh of relief. A murderer she could trust. He wouldn't be a coward, and he could help her. He wouldn't be one of those tributes that just rolled over and died. He would see that she could help him eventually. With him, she would be safe in the arena. As safe as you could be.

Lizzie flopped onto her bed. She didn't have much of a plan for getting out of the arena alive. She knew she shouldn't think about it too much, or else she'd find too many ways that her plan would go wrong somehow and she wouldn't make it back. So instead she got the vague beginnings of a plan and left it at that. She would become allies with Adam. They would find weapons, and then she would win. It didn't have to be any more complicated than that.

She walked into the bathroom, and began looking at the little containers of weird soaps and makeup. No one had ever taught her how to put on makeup, but that didn't matter. Instead, she grabbed as many as possible, and began spreading them on her face. She slathered on some black and red and even found some colored contacts. Those she stubbornly forced into her eyes, and refused to cry, even though they burned. When she looked in the mirror, a demon's face looked back at her. She grinned, and the demon grinned back.

Lizzie then snuck out of her room, and down the corridor, looking for the District mentor. Her face had been funny enough when Lizzie had started talking about her uncle, now she _really _wanted to scare her. Most of the people who knew her had fallen victim to this sort of prank before, and they didn't react as startled. She was happy to have an unsuspecting new target to terrorize. Lizzie padded down the hall, opening doors at random. She avoided Adam's door. She respected him too much as a murderer to make fun of him. Besides, he looked too serious, and she knew he wouldn't approve.

Finally, she found the escort's room. At least, she thought it was the escort's room. The escort's clothes were neatly folded on the bed. The escort wasn't there, but she could hear noises coming from in the bathroom. Lizzie turned off the lights, and waited with a grin in the dark. The scream the District escort made when she opened the door could be heard all the way down the train.

District 3

Orion sneered as he looked in the wardrobe they had given him. Only two Armani suits, one Latinus, and _no_ Aristotle. They had even supplied _jeans_, for heaven's sake. And none of the suits were tailored to fit him. He'd have to make a complaint at dinner. Hopefully they would at least be intelligent enough to send his measurements ahead to his stylist. He didn't get his hopes up. Orion couldn't even find one respectable brand of shoes in the whole closet. They just threw in a few gaudy knock offs and assumed no one would be able to tell the difference. But the paltry collection of clothing wasn't the true source of Orion's distress.

He longed for his home computer, longed to supervise how his orders were being carried out. But, he had known it would be impossible to smuggle in a working laptop. So he was forced to satisfy himself with Butler's regular updates. As far as he could tell, things were running smoothly, but it irked him that he couldn't know for certain. But, he would have to deal with the hand that had been given to him.

Orion put on his best 'forlorn' stare, as he gazed out the window, and said, as if to himself, "I wonder what my District partner is like." Butler responded quickly.

"Her name is Neon Lep. Age eighteen. No combat training. She works at computer chip factory # 14. 113 IQ. She scored higher on the creative thinking and multi-focus portions of the Overall Aptitude Exams. Two detentions in class for talking back, the first at age 11, the second at age 14. Both resulted in disciplinary action. Her mother died last year of pneumonia. Lives with her father. Close friends include Foaly, of Foaly Enterprises, and teen named Trouble Kelp. It appears her friend changed his name when he turned 18. No History of mental illness." Orion listened to the report carefully. He ultimate plan included making at least one ally to guard him until the endgame, but his District partner didn't appear likely to help. He let out another empty sigh.

"Or any of the other tributes. What could they be like?" As Butler began describing the details of the other tributes, Orion's mind was racing a mile a minute. Making plans, eliminating them, forming them anew, and devising the perfect route to success.

Neon was glad she had been able to hold back her tears until entering her room. The cameras wouldn't get to see them, and neither would her District partner. The boy was…. unnerving. Despite his youth, Neon knew on an instinctive level that to feel pity for him would be a poor choice. Foaly had cautioned her to be wary about him, but even without her friend's warning, Neon knew she would probably have stayed far away. When they had shaken hands, he had given her a confident smile, but there wasn't an ounce of friendship behind it.

There was also the boy's family to consider. The Partridge family was commonly known to have dealings on the wrong side of the law. Rumor had it that they were only in the District 3 because politicians in the Capitol feared that if they were let into the city, they'd steal all the government positions in a matter of days. The family was certainly wealthy enough to live in the Capitol. Although many of their assets had been seized when the family's patriarch had disappeared, Neon, and the rest of District 3, suspected they still had quite a bit of money stashed away somewhere. But money hadn't saved Orion from the Reaping. Just like anonymity hadn't saved her.

A knock sounded on her door, pulling her out of her morose thoughts.

"Hello dear, it's time for lunch," called the District escort. Neon didn't really like the man, but she knew he was one of the few lifelines she had left. The Mentors this year were Bolt and Fuse, both middle aged men. There was another younger Victor from 3, a girl named Beetee, but rumor had it she had lost a few screws in her own Game. Fuse drank too much, and Bolt was much more brawn than brains, but at least they seemed to be sane.

When Neon entered the dinning car, the others were already seated. There was an empty chair beside Orion, across from Caesar, their escort. She forced her face to remain blank as Orion turned to look at her. He was 12, she was 18. She had no reason to let him have any advantage over her.

"Excellent. Now, do either of you have any questions? We'll arrive in the Capitol early tomorrow morning, and you can be prepped for your debut." Neon shook her head, but Orion spoke up.

"Send a message ahead that I wish to have Latinus as my stylist. I don't want to show up dressed in tinfoil or some other horrible costume." The District escort acquired a patronizing tone as he responded, and Neon couldn't help but feel that it was probably a bad idea.

"You see Orion, the stylists have already been chosen, you will be given your stylist, and you _will_ wear whatever they give you." Orion gave the man a smile that sent a cold shiver down Neon's spine.

"You'll find you're wrong about that. But I wouldn't expect an ex-horse trainer to know anything about that." Caesar looked embarrassed and surprised.

"How did you-"

"I know many things, Caesar. It's one of my talents." Neon had the indescribable urge to punch the boy's smug little face, but she restrained herself. No use making any extra enemies. One of their mentors, Fuse, laughed.

"I hope that's not your only talent. You'll be dead before the first hour is up." The boy gave another eerie smile.

"You don't have to worry about that."

District 5

"So tell us a little about yourselves." That was their District escort, Decima. She insisted on having a positive outlook on everything, and it was getting on Anna's nerves. When neither tribute responded, she went on, unabashed. "Do you have any particular skills, or strategies, that you think will work well for you?" At this, Arcis, an old woman, laughed. You would have pegged her as the grandmotherly type, if you didn't know her story.

Arcis was the Victor of the very first Hunger Games. She had been the only tribute to truly accept what was happening, and pull herself together long enough to win. The Capitol had called her a radiant example of District patriotism.

"They don't have much meat on them," she began, "and neither looks much like a fighter." The District's other mentor, Charge, roused from her drugged stupor enough to give Anna a weak smile. That galvanized her into responding.

"I've been living on my own for the past few months. I can take care of myself." The other tribute, a boy named Oat, laughed.

"And you were probably about to starve on the streets when they called your name." Anna really didn't like her District partner.

"Like you were doing any better."

"I was. You barely lasted a few months; I've been surviving on my own for several years. Do some basic math." Anna glared at him.

"At least I'm capable of doing basic math. You probably got kicked out of elementary school after everyone gave up on you." By now, Oat was glaring back at her, but Anna didn't flinch.

"Let's settle down dears, I'm sure no one meant to insult anyone…" Decima put up a placating hand, but Anna ignored it and turned her irritation on the escort.

"Oh, I meant to insult him. He's an arrogant little child, and it's time someone told him."

"_Arrogant_? Look who's talking, little miss queen of the orphans. You think sliding through life on your tesserae, makes you strong, or smart, or brave? Try living in the real world?"

"I have been living in the real world, do you think the orphanages are all fun and games? Wake up and-"

"QUIET." Anna stopped talking, and glared at the District escort, who was for once glaring right back. Her face was red, and she was practically shaking with anger. "If the two of you can't say anything nice to one another, I suggest you go find somewhere else to argue. The three of us," for some reason the escort included their dead-to-the-world mentor, "are trying to enjoy a pleasant meal. Now, do you want us to help you strategize for the arena, or not?" Anna grumbled, but nodded.

"Lovely," by this point the district escort had regained her composure, and began delicately slicing her meat. "Oat, what skills do you think you have?"

"I'm good at remaining unnoticed. I can run fast too."

"Wonder why," Anna muttered under her breath. Anna was pretty sure Oat was involved in something illegal. Whether it was the good kind of illegal, or the bad kind of illegal, she couldn't say.

"That sounds wonderful. You should try to run from the Cornucopia as fast as possible, and then hide out for a while." Oat nodded, but Anna made a face.

"What should I do?"

"The same thing," replied Arcis, talking for once. "Neither of you stand a chance in the Cornucopia." Anna gave her a look. _She_ would know. Arcis had killed 3 defenseless tributes at her own Game's Cornucopia. It was one of the Capitol's favorite repeats.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Now, let's talk about your competitors."

Oat decided against mentioning that one of his competitors was sitting right across from him, and that if they wanted to discuss strategies he could use against her, that was fine by him. Instead he asked a question.

"How many have been Reaped so far?"

"All except the tributes from 12, but you won't have to worry much about them."

"But what about…" Oat had to search a bit for the name, "I think it was Haymitch. He won the Quarter Quell."

"I don't think District 12 will pull out another Haymitch Abernathy for a while."

"What about the others?" Decima pulled out a handheld organizer.

"The tributes to watch so far seem to be both from Districts 1 and 2, although the girl from 2 is a bit young. Maybe the boy from 3, they say he's smart. The boy from four as well. And there's some confusion over the boy from 6, they're trying to find out if he's actually eligible."

"Eligible?" asked Anna.

"Yes, it seems like he Volunteered to avoid going to jail. It says he killed a Peacekeeper!" Oat stared at her.

"Definitely one to watch out for," said Anna.

"But probably not too bright," Oat added. "Who's stupid enough to kill a Peacekeeper?"

"He might think he can win. We need to watch out for him."

"I didn't say that we didn't I'm just saying that-"

"Stop making assumptions about people and-"

"Oh, I'm making assumptions, you didn't let me finish my thou-"

"QUIET. That's it. Both of you, rooms. And I want to see some improvement in your behavior by dinnertime." Oat stood up without a word, and walked to his room. He ignored the irritating girl at his side as much as possible. He slammed the door shut behind him, and heard her do the same next to him.

He walked angrily to the bed, and sat down with a sigh. He really didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be hurtling toward his death, especially not with someone as prickly as Anna. Maybe it was better that way. At least if he hated her, he wouldn't grow attached, and I would be easier to kill her. Oat thought he could kill, if it came down to it. He might not be physically capable of it, but he knew that if it were a choice between his life and someone else's, he'd be able to make the smart decision. Not the right decision, but the one that would end in him riding the train home.

But who was he kidding? The Careers had _years_ more experience fighting than him. He had only gotten into a few fistfights. But that wouldn't matter. He had to believe that it wouldn't. He had to believe that there was still a way to make it out of the mess he had wound up in, no matter the shitty odds. Besides, he tried to console himself, he had dealt with little hope and bad situations before, back in the District. He had made the best of it before, and he could do the same know. But there was still that niggling doubt that quietly insisted that there was a difference between living on the streets in District 5, and competing in the Hunger Games.

District 4

Alexander had woken early to through his morning workout. It lasted 2 hours, and was highly physically intensive, but in some ways it relaxed him. Going through the same familiar motions, even in such a strange environment was comforting. The rock of the train was a constant reminder of his location, but his body had quickly adjusted to the floors little jolts and bumps. As he showered and dressed, Alexander tried to remember everything that he and his uncle had discussed the previous night.

They had gone over the tributes, pausing on his probable future allies. They both thought the District 1 tributes posed a higher threat than those from 2, but he was reasonably certain they would all want to be allied with him. The same couldn't really be said for him and his district partner. _She_ wanted to be allied of course, but Alexander wasn't so sure. She wasn't trained. She couldn't fight. She was small. According to everything his father and sister had ever said, she was a liability, and should be taken out at once. His uncle disagreed.

"I have talked with her. She is an intelligent girl, and a good healer. Strength is not the only road to victory, Alexander. You could use her guidance." But Alexander didn't _want_ her guidance, he wanted her dead. Sometimes he felt like his uncle had lost sight of what the Hunger Games was really about. Ever since his son, Lu Ten, had died in the 52nd Hunger Games, he had been different. Normally Alexander like him better, since he was kinder, but now he wondered if having a kind Mentor was really what he wanted at the moment.

But that couldn't be helped. His father had made it perfectly clear that he would not Mentor him. So Alexander resigned himself to taking his uncle's advice. He didn't always like it, but he knew his uncle had turned more tributes into Victors than practically any other mentor before him. He would just have to trust him.

Alexander shrugged on some clothes before going to breakfast. He made sure they were nice enough to appear on camera, but didn't otherwise pay them much attention. As he walked down the hall to the dinning car, he bumped into his District partner.

"Sorry," he said reflexively, before trying to cover his politeness with a glare. She seemed to buy it.

"Just because you're Mister Career, doesn't mean you can't watch where you're going."

"My uncle thinks you're smart, and wants us to be allies. But I guess you're not smart enough to realize you should treat me with a little more respect. I'll tell him to reconsider." Alexander knew he wouldn't, and even if he did, his uncle would just berate him, but the girl seemed to believe it. It didn't make her any nicer though.

"Fine. I'm sorry." She really didn't sound sorry, but Alexander let it pass as they continued on to breakfast. Already seated were his uncle Iroh, and Moray's mentor, Mags. Mags was a nice woman, and Alexander knew that she and Iroh got along well. He thought she was a good match for Moray, since Mags hadn't won her Game through sheer strength. Alexander also thought that if it came down to it, Mags would ditch her tribute in favor of him, which was another plus. She had been his neighbor since before he was born, and Alexander suspected personal loyalty would win out over District loyalty. One more edge he had over Moray. Not that he thought it would matter.

Moray smiled as she entered the dinning car. She liked the company there much better. Her District partner was cocky, and she could tell he didn't like her much. But his uncle was nice, and her mentor, Mags, had a motherly feel to her. It was strange how kind the two of them could be, considering they themselves had won the Hunger Games. She shrugged internally. Maybe people change. Maybe one day arrogant Alexander could be a nice, good, human being. Like that could ever happen.

"Good morning, Moray, Alexander. Would either of you like some tea?" Alexander groaned quietly beside her, but Moray nodded. "It's Jasmine. I find it soothing." Moray accepted it gratefully. She could use a little soothing. "Are you sure you don't want any Alexander?"

"No." Moray gave him another little glare at his rudeness, but his uncle seemed used to it. "When do we pull into the Capitol?"

"Just a few minutes now. Sit down for some breakfast." Moray's breath caught a little. The Capitol. She was one more step closer to being thrown into the arena, and then… She took another sip of the tea, and tried to eat some of the breakfast.

"Just remember to listen to your stylists. They know what they are doing." Moray nodded, and could see Alexander doing the same beside her.

"I want the two of you to talk with the tributes from Districts 1 and 2 as soon as possible. Tell them to meet us on the roof of the Tribute Center at 10. We will need to discuss strategy with them before I can give the two of you further instructions." As far as Moray knew, she was just supposed to hide out in the woods until after the bloodbath, and then go and meet the rest of the Careers, and act as their medic. She couldn't decide if it was a good idea to follow that plan. On one hand, the Careers usually lasted long into the Games. On the other, she'd be a sitting duck the second anyone decided they wanted to end the alliance. She wished her brother was there, he was better at planning things, no matter how little she liked to admit it.

Moray also didn't know if she wanted to be a part of the Careers. She didn't want to hurt anyone, and she knew her new allies wouldn't be very tolerant of that sentiment. The _Hunger Games_ wasn't tolerant of that sentiment. She thought she could kill someone if she had to, but what if they started torturing one of the younger kids or something. Moray didn't think she could sit by and let them do that. But what other choice did she have? She would have to jump that hurtle when she came to it, but until then, all she could do was wait, listen, and hope for the best.

* * *

******Once again, here are the rules:  
**

******I have devised a complex system of points for sponsorship, and various actions by you readers earns your chosen tribute points. Reviews are worth 1, 2, or 3 points depending on how complete they are. Additionally, users who submit multiple reviews gain more points than those for whom it is their first time submitting. (+1 point for the number of times you have reviewed previously.) Another way to earn points is to guess tribute's identity. Doing so will earn 10 points for your chosen tribute, if you are the first to guess. I will post when tribute's identities have been guessed, but for now, here is a list of their assumed names. (As a tip on guessing, many of the names I assigned are somehow related to their inspiration, for instance had I used Hunger Games characters, Gale Hawthorne's name might have been Storm Thornapple.) Tributes from the same District are from the same series, and no one is from the HUnger Games. You may guess one tribute per review.  
**

**Here is a list of the tributes by District. I will update this as people correctly guess names.  
**

**District 1: ****Although neither of these tributes have been guessed, someone correctly identified the universe as the Inheritance Cycle**  


**F: Sapphire Silvae  
M: Pyrrhus Aeacid  
**

**District 2:  
**

******F: Camilla Hastae  
M: Pine Frigus**  


**District 3: Artemis Fowl  
**

**********F: Neon Lep  
M: Orion Partridge: The first correctly guessed tribute, Artemis Fowl. Orion, because that is the name of Artemis's split personality, and Partridge because Partridges are a type of fowl.**  


**District 4: Avatar, the Last Airbender  
**

**************F: Moray Kannae: Katara. Moray because I needed a 'fishy' name, and Kannae because her mother's name was Kanna  
M: Alexander Ursa: Alexander after Alexander the Great (Something I could see his father doing) and Ursa because that is his mother's name**  


**District 5:  
**

******************F: Anna Rome  
M: Oat Rubble**  


**District 6:  
**

**********************F: Lizzie Brooks  
M: Adam Grumman**  


**District 7:  
**

**************************F: Poppy Gordon  
M: Valarian (Val) Papaveris**  


**District 8: Lady and the Tramp  
**

******************************F: Dove Darling: Dove, because Tramp calls her Pidgeon, Darling because that is what one of her owners is called in the movie  
M: Cire (Tramp) Challis: Tramp's name was selected purely to fit in with the District, so I let him keep his 'nickname'**  


**District 9:  
**

**********************************F: June Flewett  
M: Wolfsbane (Wolf) Narni**  


**District 10:  
**

**************************************F: Sable Joy  
M: Hunter Friend**  


**District 11:  
**

******************************************F: Jean Wilkins: Hermione Granger. Jean is her middle name, Wilkins is the name her family used when in hiding.  
M: James Evans: Harry Potter. James is his middle name, Evans is his mother's maiden name.**  


**District 12: Twilight  
**

**********************************************F: Belladonna (Donna) Mallard: Bella Swan. BELLAdonna, because it fit, and Mallard, because swans and mallards are birds  
M: Mason Anthony: Edward Cullen. Apparently Anthony Mason was his name before he was turned into a vampire.  
**

**Thanks, hope you like the update!**


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